Praying for Redemption
by Blood Red Queen
Summary: Beckett hates himself for what he did to Elizabeth Swann. Knowing her to be alone on an island, he seeks her out to beg forgiveness. She hates his guts...Doesn't she? Extreme Beckett/Elizabeth romance, smut and sarcasm.
1. Incoherent mumblings

**Sorry, I couldn't let the good ship Beckabeth sail without me. For all those who love Will and Elizabeth slash,I warn ye know, it ain't gonna be pretty........**

**N/B I don't own POTC, however much I'd like to. Any incidental OC just own themselves, I have no control over my playthings........  
**

Maria breathed out slowly and rolled onto her side. Dawn light filtered through the grimy window of her small house. Her bed was warmer than a few days ago, partly due to the fact it was now the furnace of summer, but mostly due to the man who still lay sleeping beside her.

Maria cautiously reached under her pillow and, to great relief, found her fingertips touch the cold edge of the silver shilling. He was a rich man, her latest customer, and a rich man could afford more of her...services.

The man grunted softly, interrupting her train of thoughts. What was his name again?

Ah, that's it, Beckett, Cutler Beckett.

Maria had found his Lordship milling down the dirty street in dark contemplation. Maria knew a frustrated man when she saw one, and this man was _certainly_ frustrated.

'Elizabeth...' came his husky whisper, it was an odd voice, arrogant and hurt, even angry. But gentle, ever so gentle.

Maria was used to this. Every now and again one of her clients, in that haunted place between dreaming and consciousness, would utter a name, sometimes with a message. They were nearly always the same; 'I love you Sarah' or 'Rebbecca, don't tell your father' or 'Honey that dress _does _make your arse look fat' or, as she had perplexedly encountered 'That was great Kevin'

The whisper rose up again, 'Elizabeth....'

Maria knew how to play this game. She was a good actress, and good acting was essential in her profession, however sordid it may seem in the eyes of the law.

'Yes my darling?' she answered tenderly, boredom threatening to suffocate her, this was tedious, all too tedious.

'Forgive me' he said seriously 'I never meant to hurt you, please, I don't ever want to see you cry....'

Maria blinked casually, not listening to the grumbling man next to her. She had learned, early on, to ignore them once she had answered. What would she do tonight? Meet Emily probably, find some lout at the tavern and........

Far,far away from Maria, and her lighthearted thoughts, Cutler Beckett fought back his troubled soul and succumbed to sleep once more.

**Fear not, my lovely children, I will be writing chapter two up soon (hopefully). Oh, and Norribeth fans can rejoice! I am planning a story for those two as well. It's going to have a happier ending than this one , but can't win 'em all eh?  
**


	2. Already paid

**AHOY THERE! (clears throat) I mean hello.**

**Sorry, pirateitis getting the better of me, be warned, it's catching.**

Clearing his throat Beckett opened his eyes, tasting rancid alcohol in his mouth he began mental hyperventilation.

_Where am I? Who am I? What am I doing here? Is this my bed? I hope not, it's disgusting.....Gah! Who is she? Do I know her? What did I do with my coat? Where's Lizzie?_

Feeling he shouldn't say such things out loud, he opted for a hesitant 'Morning.'

The woman paused in lacing up her boots and glanced at him, flame red hair framing her young and pretty face. It was her expression he disliked, a polite mask of disinterest and insufferable boredom.

'Morning Sir' she replied politely. 'How'd you sleep?'

Beckett contemplated this; how wold he tell her no, how could he tell her that he hated waking up next to a prostitute, that he hated staring out to sea, alone with his dark thoughts. That he hated dreaming of a weeping and broken woman every night, that guilt burdened his mind at dawn and painful desire racked his body at dusk?...........

'Fine.....Maria' he lied, after making a conscious effort to remember her name. 'Er....how much do I owe you?'

'Nothin', you paid me last night' she told him, retrieving he shilling from the pillow and tucking it into her threadbare purse. _Yes I paid you_. He thought bitterly _I pay them all, I betrayed the only woman I've ever felt desire for, and was betrayed in return. I feel nothing. Do you know? Do you care? Of course you don't, I've already paid you..._

_'_Oh, right.' he said distractedly, standing up and putting on his jacket. He had to find someone, someone important.......

Then it struck him, he had no idea where he was. The dull ache in his head reminded him of the night's drunken activities, a far cry from what he wanted.

'Er.....what street is this?' he asked, hoping it didn't sound as stupid out loud as it did in his own head.

Maria gave him a look. Wow, was this man simple!

'Ha'penny Street' she told him, a slight mocking ring in her voice. Beckett ignored it, the information was all he needed.

'Right.' he said with disinterest 'Um....do you know Josamee Gibbs?'

Maria looked round.

'Gibbs? Sure. Drunken ex navy guy.'

Beckett nodded 'Yes that's him. How is-'

'Drunk, what else?'

'Okay, where can I fi-'

'Tortuga tavern.' she answered briskly.

Nodding silently Beckett left her. Blinking in the sun he awkwardly trudged his way up the small, winding street. _Josamee Gibbs, I need your information, and you will give it to me...Or by God there will be hell to pay......_

**Uh-oh, our favourite villain is on a mission! Any reviews and constructive criticism will be extremely welcome here. Don't make me cry.... ; )**


	3. A friendly warning

**Ah Tortuga.....home to the drunk and the dirty....surely not a place for our man in the lovely white wig?**

Beckett surveyed his surroundings with disgust. The dank of the inn mixed with the stale air to create an almighty stench. Drunken men cavorted with intoxicated women in dark corners whilst consuming inhuman amounts of alcohol. Beckett found the whole thing sordid.

Walking through the tavern, avoiding the occasional fistfight or two, he made his way to the bar at the far end. Taking note of the people there Beckett saw the redhead prostitute he had spent the night with, she did not look at him and was chatting gaily with her blonde companion, he recognized her also. He had spent a night in her bed as well.

_Simple, ignorant creatures,_Beckett thought dourly, _You know nothing besides your immediate world. What a charmed life you lead! How blessed!_

Eyeing him suspiciously was the barman. A humongous man with a ruddy complexion and small piggy eyes. He didn't want no stuff shirt navy man in his bar. Beckett tried to remain indifferent and, albeit a little nervously, strode over to the man.

'Good evening Sir,' Beckett greeted him, making no attempt at friendliness, his voice was haughty and it made the barman glare at him. 'Where is the man you call Gibbs?'

The barman raised his eyebrow, analysing the small and arrogant man before him. Gibbs? What did this man want with him?

The barman said nothing. Sighing, Beckett withdrew a gold coin from the pouch attached to his belt, he waved it surreptitiously at the barman.

'Your help will not go unrewarded.' he purred.

The barman's eyes goggled at the coin in Beckett's hand. Glancing around him he jerked his head towards the sty.

'H's in th' back' he grunted lowly.

'Thank you.' Beckett said, tossing the coin into the barman's massive hands.

-----------------------------------------------------

Beckett found the man laying in the stinking mud, his head resting on a large sow's back.

'Ugh.' Beckett snorted, flaring his nostrils when the godforsaken smell assaulted his senses.

He needed the man awake, and, judging by the rum bottle in his hand, he needed him sober. Looking around Beckett saw a small pail of sludgy water next to a wooden support.

Picking it up Beckett glanced at the sleeping man, glanced at the pail, then back at the man.

_Wakey-wakey Gibbs!_ he thought evilly, and threw the cold water over the man.

Gibbs awoke instantly, spitting the stagnant water out of his mouth and spewing profanities. 'Curse you and your grandmother's teeth you filthy bog rat!'

Beckett coolly set the bucket down, and waited for the man to stop.

'Are you quite finished?' he asked, revulsion playing on every syllable.

Gibbs stopped and brushed the sodden hair out of his eyes, looking at Beckett his eyes widened in disbelief and fear.

'Cu-Cutler Beckett?!' he stammered 'Y-You're dead! I saw yer ship go down! I fired one of th' cannons meself!'

'Yes, yes,' Beckett interrupted, raising his hand angrily 'Blown to smithereens, I know, I should be dead, but, as luck would have it, here I am.'

He waited patiently as he watched all of this sink in. Examining his fingernails absentmindedly he allowed Gibbs to curiously scrutinize his face.

'Well, blow me down!' he breathed in awe.

'I'd rather not Gibbs.' Beckett smiled thinly 'I have no desire to be this close to you as it is.'

Beckett was stood at least seven feet away from Gibbs.

Gibbs frowned, this was strange, bringing Barbossa and Jack from the next world was weird enough, but Beckett?! Surely Tia Dalma wasn't _that _crazy?!

'What d'ye want Beckett?' he asked.

'I need a boat.'

Gibbs was confused.

'A ship?'

'A rowing boat.' Beckett rolled his eyes, they expected too much of him really, pirates. Pulling several gold pieces from his pouch and handed them to Gibbs, who took him greedily.

'Aye,' he smiled 'I'll get ye a boat Beckett.'

'And directions.' Beckett said sharply, causing Gibbs to stare.

'To wha'? Another port?'

Beckett walked closer to him, until his face was just a foot from Gibbs'.

'Perhaps you remember a certain woman named Elizabeth Swann?'

Gibbs eyes narrowed dangerously, a dark suspicion clouding his face.

'And what does ye' wan' with Miss _Turner_?' he asked, his voice quiet.

Beckett blinked in surprise. Turner? _She married the blacksmith? _ _Damn, this is going to make things awfully complicated._

_'_I have some unfinished business that I need to sort out.' he told him smoothly. Gibbs scowled at him furiously.

'Sorry Beckett,' he snarled aggressively, 'Bu' I spent too long protectin' the little Missy, an' I ain't gonna betray her now!'

Beckett took a few steps back in alarm.

'My dear fellow, I have no intention of hurting the woman-' he began, but Gibbs cut him off with a growl.

'I doubt she'll see ya anyway, poor child, 'spect your presence will jus' upset her further.'

Beckett could only stare as Gibbs turned away, his ire spent. Sighing he reached into his coat pocket. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this.

'Tell me where she is Gibbs.' he ordered, colder than ice.

Gibbs looked around to see Beckett pointing a gun at him. His eyes blazing with blue fire. Looking down the barrel he knew Beckett meant to do it. He scoffed.

'Yer gonna shoot me Beckett?' he asked quizzically.

'If I have to.' came the sharp reply.

Gibbs shook his head wonderingly, surely this man wasn't mad enough to kill the only person with the right information_. _Of course he would. The little bastard.

'Why'd ye care so much fer the lady?'

Beckett frowned, _Care?! Of course I don't bloody care! I'm just sick of having my nights invaded by the bitch! I want a full nights sleep for once! I don't even like Elizabeth Swann, I mean Turner, Really, some sleep, is that too much to ask?!!!_

'I have something that belongs to her.' he admitted.

Gibbs cocked his head slightly, wondering, his eyes trying to lock Beckett's gaze. But then he remembered that the man had a gun pointing at him. Gibbs sighed.

'Ye know the Caretta Isles?'

Beckett nodded 'Of course.'

'Aye, the one farthest north, the little 'un.'

Beckett lowered the gun, nodded again and went to walk out the door when Gibbs' soft growl followed him;

'Yer boat'll be waitin' fer ye in the mornin', an' if ye hurt Elizabeth, you'll regret it, mark me words.'

**Oh dear,oh dear, What has Gibbs done?**

**I'm sorry if Gibbs appeared a little out of character, please enlighten me if I get any of them wrong. I'd like some reviews if that's okay? Just so know how to write the rest, Thank You!**

**Next update is a flashback, so please don't be confused if everything changes.**


	4. Beaten and broken

**Right, so, here's a flashback. It sort of explains some of the unclear plot points (A good excuse for poor writing). Why is Beckett trying to find Elizabeth? What item of hers does he possess? Why does Elizabeth infuriate him so? And, above all else, why did I decide to write Mercer as such a asshole? Enjoy!**

_Beckett sipped his tea in silence. Glancing out of the window he saw a fair blue sky dotted with cotton clouds. Ironic, seeing as he was about to destroy a those low life pirates once and for all._

_His thoughts turned to their prisoner below deck. She was beautiful, there was no question, but a stubborn criminal nonetheless. He would get answers from her, even if it meant obliterating that proud and delicate beauty._

_Beckett's thin lips twisted into a feral and unpleasant smile as he thought about every detail of her face: Her chocolate eyes that both feared and challenged him, eyes so full of innocent fire. Her attractive pale face with chiseled features that was framed with soft hair the colour of unfurnished gold. Lips that could smile as readily as they could scowl......_

_The door of his cabin opened and Beckett saw his shipmate Mercer standing in the doorway. Mercer stood in a pose that suited his nature; cold, efficient, and slightly sadistic. Beckett often wondered why he thought Mercer sadistic, but when he saw the ruby spots of blood on Mercer's hands and the gleeful lights in his eyes, Beckett cleared his throat._

_'Any progress on Miss Swann?'_

_'None Sir.' Mercer admitted, face impassive as ever. Beckett sighed and set his teacup down._

_'Very well, I shall see to her.'_

_----------------------------------------------_

_In the damp gloom of the brig Beckett spotted her prone form. Her wrists were shackled cruelly to a wooden beam and she was gagged with a piece of dirty cloth. As she glared defiantly up at him Beckett saw a trickle of blood on her temple where Mercer had beaten her. He knelt down in front of her._

_'You know it will go better for you if you co-operate, Miss Swann.'_

_The two of them were alone, Beckett had sent away the guards. Elizabeth let out an angry grunt and tried desperately to get out of the shackles, no doubt to kill him. _

_Beckett raised an eyebrow and waited for her to give up. When she did so he tilted his head in a condescending manner, Fight all you want, my dear, you're not getting away from e this time. He fingered a gold locket that hung around her slim neck._

_'Silly things, trinkets,' he said, tugging it. It fell away from her throat and he dangled it cruelly in front of her._

_'A locket, with portraits of your mother and father no doubt?' he chuckled, swinging the pendant back and forth. Elizabeth's eyes glanced at it in alarm and then resorted to glowering at him angrily._

_'Wouldn't it be a shame to get rid of their memory?' Without warning, he tossed it into the shadows, it landed in the slimy darkness with a dull thunk. _

_Beckett saw Elizabeth's fingers clench. He bent his face closer to hers to see the tears forming in her eyes. Desire rose within him. He raised a hand and stroked her cheek lightly. Elizabeth shrank back from him as far as her bonds would allow, about five inches. Beckett let out a throaty chuckle._

_'Shall I remove this gag?' he asked, almost tenderly._

_Elizabeth made no movement as Beckett placed both his hands on her cheeks, for a second they both were stock still, each of them suspicious of the other. Then Beckett placed both his forefingers either side of the rag and drew it sharply away from her mouth._

_Elizabeth drew a ragged breath. Beckett stared at her coldly. Almost immediately he crushed her mouth with his own in a furious kiss that threatened to suffocate her. A small cry of disgust escaped her and she pulled her head back. Spitting in his face._

_Beckett frowned and wiped the saliva away, a cruel and predatory smile showing on his arrogant face. His eyes danced with sapphire lights, her defiant behaviour gave him a perfect excuse to vent his anger and lust....._

_He hit her, hard on the face. Her golden head smacked against the wooden beam. Her mouth twisted in a snarl as he pinned her to the floor. She tried to throw him off, but the shackles hindered her and he was too strong._

_'Where is Jack Sparrow?' he demanded._

_'Go to hell Beckett.' came the hissed reply._

_Beckett struck her again, and ran his other hand up her legs, feeling her glorious curves._

_Elizabeth screamed and attempted to deliver a sharp kick but he quickly fought her back. Opening her mouth to scream again Elizabeth was met with another blow._

_'Shut up!' he growled, rolling up her breeches to reveal her shapely legs. Elizabeth realised what he meant to do and tried rolling over to prevent him, to no avail._

_Unbuckling his trousers Beckett leant over her and hissed in her ear._

_'Now we do things my way......'_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_When he was done with her Beckett stood up. He stared dispassionately at Elizabeth, who was weeping. He no longer saw Elizabeth Swann, proud King of the Brethren Court, a woman of fire and passion. He saw Lizzie Swann, a girl, lying beaten and broken on a wet wooden floor. Bruises formed on her creamy skin and blood was seeping out of her nose and the corner of her mouth._

_Her cries echoed slightly around the brig and Beckett suddenly felt uncomfortable. What had he just done?_

_He shook away the though and turned on his heel._

_'Hear me now, Miss Swann, I will find your Brethren, and I will cut them down. Then I will come back and see what can be down with you.'_

_He was glad he had his back turned for another lascivious grin toyed with his lips whilst uncertainty blazed in his eyes._

_He began to walk away when her sobbing ceased and she spoke softly;_

_'Beckett?'_

_He turned, she was narrowing her eyes in a gesture of epic hate._

_'When you die, it will be from the bullet of my gun.' she promised._

_Beckett snorted, he strode over to her and replaced the gag. Then he picked up a small gun that lay discarded near the gunpowder barrels. Twirling it in his hand he began to laugh._

_'I think not, Miss Swann.' he said, tucking it into his belt._

_Leaving her in the brig he began to laugh cruelly. And he was still laughing all the way back to his cabin._

_**I hope that cleared up some things, but I left some things unresolved.**_

_**Next update is the reunion between Elizabeth and Beckett. And it's safe to say she's not pleased to see him.......**_

_**See ya!**_


	5. A rather unexpected discovery

**So, Beckett is a rapist, hmmmmm........**

**Now we see Elizabeth.......**

Elizabeth finished peeling the last potato and rubbed her stomach thoughtfully. Looking round the isolated cabin, _I won't be lonely for long, _she thought,_ not with Morgan on his way..._

Her new dwelling was a ramshackle building that she had fixed and made more suitable, with the help of Jack and Gibbs. A small stove stood in the back whilst a simple fireplace and untidy bed lay in another corner, an old wooden table with some spindly chairs adorned the rest. It was small, but it was hers.

Glancing out to the horizon she sighed. It was a daunting prospect; living as a not-quite widow. _I'm alive, that has to count for something right?_

Elizabeth frowned as she spotted a lonely rowing boat land on the shore, with a person inside it. A visitor?

Elizabeth was thrilled, but confused, _It can't be Will....._

Jack? Elizabeth ruled out the possibility with a bitter disappointment, it was too short for Jack, and too well dressed.

Studying the figure more carefully Elizabeth knew it was none of her pirate friends, she saw the flash of white wig and her heart stopped. _James!_

Another wave of disappointment flooded through her, with a razors edge of guilt. It couldn't be James Norrington, the proud man whose heart was wasted on her and had died trying to save her from the _Dutchman. Who knew he loved me enough to die for me? Why was I so blind?_

Suddenly her insides went cold as she thought about another man.

No! It couldn't be him! He was dead, as cold as midwinter! No no no no no!!!!!!!!

Elizabeth growled, _It has to be my luck!_

---------------------------------------------------

Beckett stumbled out of the rowing boat. It hadn't been a long journey, barely an hour. He stooped to place the oars within the boat when:

'What sin did you commit that not even the Devil will take you?'

Beckett looked up sharply to see Elizabeth Turner. She was still as beautiful as he remembered her, fiery, proud, exquisite....

And heavily pregnant.

His eyes widened as they fastened on the bulge; out of proportion with the rest of her, which was still slim and attractive. Her simple woolen dress discreetly softened her swelling belly whilst showing her other features to best effect. He pointed to it shakily.

'Y-You're with child.' he stated.

Elizabeth snorted 'Gee, nothing gets past you huh?'

Beckett shuddered. This was not what he expected.

'It-I-' he stammered, bewildered at this new turn of events. Elizabeth glared at him.

'For God's sake Beckett, It's not _your _bloody baby.' she snapped.

Beckett sighed, both with exasperation and dignified relief.

Elizabeth surveyed him beadily, she noticed he walked with a limp, he favoured his left leg, the skin on his left hand was a darker pink than the rest of him. He was thin. Painfully thin.

She shook of the wave of pity and stared at him so hard Beckett felt in danger of his head exploding. She opened her mouth, as if to say something. Then she ran a hand over her stomach, wincing. Not looking at him, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Beckett rolled his eyes.

_Oh boy, here we go...._

'Hey!' he called, and set off after her.

**Sorry for the bizarre ending.**

**Anyway, more up soon!**


	6. Acid tongue and teacups

**Hello everyone**

**I apologize profusely for the lack of updates, things get so busy around this time of year.**

**Anyway, Elizabeth and Beckett.....I feel that a little argument is in order don't you?......**

'Just listen to me will you?'

Elizabeth was halfway up to the shack when Beckett's question floated up to her, angry and indignant.

She raised her forefinger to her pursed lips and raised her eyebrows in a mocking pose of sincere consideration of the question.

'Hmmmmmm lets see Beckett, you imprison me and threaten to kill me, you murder my father and friends, you attack the pirate brethren and manipulated my comrades into your way of thinking. So tell me this, Mr Perfect Pratt, why on Earth should I listen to you?'

Beckett stopped a few feet behind her._ You are so infuriating!!!!!!!_

When he didn't answer Elizabeth strode haughtily to her shack, opened the wooden door wide enough for her to enter, and stepped inside.

'You're dead Beckett, go back to your foul abode, make everyone happy, especially me.'

With that, she slammed the door in Beckett's incredulous face. He scowled.

_Right you little simpleton, I didn't come all this way to be insulted with your sarcastic little comments. YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME!_

He rapped his fists repeatedly against the door, drumming incessantly with his knuckles until they turned red

'Mis Swann, I-I know it's a shock but you have to believe me-'

The door swung open so unexpectedly it almost knocked him over. She stood like the imposing King of Pirates she used to be. Her eyes sparkled with dark anger.

'Believe you? You were blown up, I saw your ship go down to The Locker. Yet you turn up here! Of all places! A ghost made flesh. You arrive completely intact and-'

'Intact?!' he snapped back, causing her to shut up instantly. He reached up to his hat and wig and sharply yanked it off.

'You call this intact?'

His head was bald and had been burnt a glistening pink. His flesh had bubbled and the skin was taut and twisted. Beckett rolled up his sleeve to reveal his twisted red arm, it was thin, as though all but the bone had been seared away. He showed her a long scar that tattooed his midriff like a scarlet snake. His hip was bruised and scarred, explaining the limp. As the grand finale, Beckett pulled his shirt forward slightly to show a large indention, which must have been caused by a shard of wood, or any other piece of shrapnel.

Elizabeth gasped and took a few steps back. Horror etched on her face as if she were a statue from a Greek tragedy.

_Mother of God...._

Beckett replaced his wig calmly and folded his arms, patiently waiting for her to speak. _Ha! You're scared now, I can tell._

Elizabeth blinked back the tears of pity in her eyes. She fought back the gorge that rose in her throat, He was still alive, that annoyed her more than his scars horrified her.

'That still doesn't explain what your doing here.' she said curtly.

'I can explain,' he said irritably, 'But first-' he pointed to her belly again 'what the hell is THAT?!'

-----------------------------------------------------------

Elizabeth stirred the sugar cube into the tea and handed the cup to Beckett. There was such a thing as manners after all.

'So it's Turner's?' he asked, a trifle cautiously.

'Of course it's Will's,' she sighed 'honestly, how many times must I go over it. No it's not yours, even though....'

She trailed off, Beckett cleared his throat and made quite a show stirring his tea and taking a rather large gulp. Choking on it.

Elizabeth sipped her tea. _You think I'd let a monster like you grow inside me? There is already one too many of you in the world, Cutler Beckett._

Surreptitiously she studied his face. If she were honest with herself, she would admit that she was grateful his eyes hadn't changed. They were still the icy blue she remembered...

But it was lucky she wasn't honest with herself or she would have been embarrassed.

Beckett fidgeted anxiously in his seat as the uncomfortable pause passed, _Maybe this was a mistake....I shouldn't have come....._

'Is there any reason you're messing up my life again Beckett?' Elizabeth asked, he had never heard her so annoyed.

'I- er...came to return something' he admitted.

Elizabeth leant back and rubbed her pregnant belly as another wave of pain left her abdomen tender. _Not long now......_

'Return what?'

'Patience, Miss Swann, I do not rush things.'

'It's Turner now.'

'Forgive me, Turner' he gesticulated.

'Why did you come?'

'I didn't think it polite to barge in-'

'Never stopped you before' she retorted.

Beckett sneered.

'Just because you and Turner.....Wait, where is the boy anyway?'

He sounded genuinely interested. Elizabeth didn't look at him as she answered, but looked intently a her cup. _Yeah....like I'd tell you._

'He's gone away for a while.'

'Another foolish pirate adventure? Really Ms Turner,is it wise for him to run off leaving you alone and pregnant ?'

'You forget yourself Beckett, I ask for neither your company nor counsel' she said icily.

'Oh, God have mercy on me, Elizabeth S-Turner's acidic tongue is making an entrance!' He waved his arms grandly like a priest trying o batter the demons away.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed, she folded her arms and drummed the fingers of one hand on the upper arm of the other.

'What Will is doing is of no concern to you Beckett.'

Beckett dropped his arms and raised a sceptical eyebrow, a singular feature at odds with the arrogantly irritated face.

'He died, didn't he?'

'No' she replied quickly, too quickly. Beckett's eyebrow continued to rise higher up his forehead.

On the Dutchman?'

'No!'

Now the eyebrow looked as if it were willing to commit suicide by leaping off his head as though it were extremely depressed.

'Turner's dead? You're a widow?'

Elizabeth stood up, knocking her chair to the ground. Her beautiful face was a mask of pure anger and hatred, her eyes were dark pools of sorrow and grief.

'Get out' she whispered softly.

Beckett rose slowly, still a head shorter than she. He drew himself up to his full, indignant height, his sapphire eyes locked with her chestnut ones.

'I came to give you something.' he protested. _William Turner's dead?!_

'I don't care!' she cried, pointing a shaking finger to the door as colour began to rise in her cheeks, flushing her a pale pink. 'Get out!'

Beckett walked steadily past her, past the meager belongings and paused with his hand on the door.

'Listen, I didn't come all the way for you or your bastard child, I came here to-'

What he was there for, he never said, because Elizabeth flung his teacup at the door, missing his face by inches. It smashed and fell in a deafening crash at his feet, in shards of china and tea.

'GET OUT!' Elizabeth screamed, grabbing her own cup and hurling at him, it hit him on the forearm and shattered, soaking his shirt with tea.

Beckett quickly opened the door and almost fell out, he fled a short distance. He heard another object smash behind him, a plate possibly.

'GET OUT!' she was still screaming, Beckett heard the tears in her voice, and his slight shame made his own cheeks prickle.

As soon as he were certain he was well out of harms way, he sighed. Now he knew just how volatile her temper was, she was a force to be reckoned with.

Running his finger through his wig he sat on the grassy embankment, he could always try again later.

_Oh Jesus, this is going to be harder than I thought......._

**Ok, fear not, Beckabeth will blossom, this was just too much fun not to write.**

**More soon! ^.^**


	7. Somersault

**Alrighty then, I think we can all say Elizabeth isn't ecstatic to see Beckett.**

**Just to reassure you all, I am still alive, but I haven't written this story for a while.**

**Ahem, shall we?.....**

Elizabeth stirred, the discomfort in her belly growing in the dawn light. The bed was more uncomfortable than ever, and the events of yesterday played themselves in her mind.

'Oh Dear God, let that have been a dream.' she groaned as she rolled out of bed.

That was a mistake, no sooner was she upright did she bend double and vomit copiously into the bedside bowl.

'Eugh' she mumbled, wiping her mouth. She needed something to eat.

Stumbling into the kitchen Elizabeth washed out the bowl and found some bread which she buttered and ate. It wasn't exactly fine cuisine, but it was the best she could deal with this morning.

A movement outside caught her eye, rushing to the window she saw Cutler Beckett sat on the pile of logs near her house. The sunlight was playing on his white hair and his sweat, even this early in the day, was making his thin cotton shirt cling to him, Elizabeth could see the arch of his back even from here. He was whittling something from a block of wood with a penknife.

It would have been a lovely image if Elizabeth's vision wasn't blood red.

Every possible hate welled up in her mind, a thousand insults could not express what she felt.

_It wasn't a dream! Damn him!!!!!!! _

All the things she could have screamed jammed in her brain, she couldn't express a single one, so she found one that she uttered rapidly.

'Ratbastardweaselfuck' she breathed, marching to the door and flinging it open.

Beckett looked up sharply. He had slept on the cold ground all night and was not in a pleasant mood.

Elizabeth stood in the doorway, her hair tousled from sleep, her eyes were still bleary but had a crystalline radiance in them, her cheeks were pink and her pregnant belly swelled out perfectly. Under different circumstances she would look a vision of loveliness and perfect young motherhood. Well, she would, if she didn't look as though she would murder him.

Quickly he shoved the block of wood he had been whittling behind him and put the knife in his pocket, praying it would not give her ideas.

'Er....good morning?' he asked tentatively. _Surprised to see me, my dear?_

'What...are you....still...doing here?' she asked slowly, as if she would explode if she stopped thinking about the upcoming sentences.

'I plan to see my endeavor through Miss Turner,' he said calmly, 'Otherwise I could never forgive myself'

'Oh, poor you.' she snarled, mock sympathy on her face. 'I had forgotten you had a little task on your mind.'

'No need for that Madam'

'Beckett, I am eight months pregnant, I'm uncomfortable and very angry, do you honestly think it wise to stay within punching reach?'

Beckett blinked, unsure about how to react to this threat. _Like a snarling tigress protecting her young....._

Instead of running away like a sensible person, Beckett retaliated.

'Turner, I slept on a cold hard ground, I'm hungry and I would really like to go home!'

Elizabeth smiled warmly. Beckett was curious, what was she planning?

She came closer to him, and placed a hand gently on his chest.

'What are you doing? Miss Turner please!' Beckett spluttered, she was too close and smiling at him in an all-too-familiar way.

Her face was inches away from his, her other hand was also on his chest. Beckett truly was astonished, surely this wasn't the same woman?

Her lips were extremely close, Beckett could feel her breath on his lips.

_Oh, to hell with it, _he thought wildly, and he closed his eyes and leant forward.....

He was met with a forceful push in his chest, Beckett reeled backward and did an awkward somersault off the log pile, landing heavily on his side.

'Go home then!' She snapped, turning on her heel and flouncing back towards the cabin. Beckett scrambled up, rubbing the bruise that was forming on his side.

'Ow...' he breathed. That was uncalled for. A small blush of embarrassment spread across his features, giving him the look of an indignant raspberry.

'Yeah well,' he called, like a petulant child 'I'm still hungry'.

Elizabeth didn't respond, but as Beckett stood up a chunk of bread came from nowhere and collided with his forehead.

_She can't stay mad forever can she? No, she can't, not with my plan to get in her good books..._

Just to annoy her, he picked up the bread and nibbled at it. He heard her growl from inside the cabin, but he straightened his coat, picked up the block of wood and began to whistle merrily as he resumed his whittling.

**Oh dear, Beckett with a plan, we all know that's not good.**

**Next chapter: It's a long chapter I'm afraid...Tragedy strikes! What is Beckett whittling? Can Elizabeth stay mad? Does Beckett has a sweet side? And why does the midwife need buckets?**

**More soon my lovelies! ^.^**


	8. Pillar of fire

**Hello again shipmates!**

**Right, this is the chapter of DOOOOOMMMMM! as I like to think of it.**

**Just to clear things up before I get you all confused and annoyed, a month has passed since Beckett turned up at Lizzie's door, and yep, she's still pregnant.**

Beckett swung the axe again, splitting the log into two.

Over a month had passed since the awkward 'Log pile' incident. Elizabeth's pregnancy was causing problems for both of them, he could tell she was in a lot of pain and she found the perfect way to express her discomfort was to torture him. Gathering the heavy firewood for her was just one way he could ensure he was out of killing distance.

He had built himself his own little cabin near the trees. He had been cunning in that way, far enough to be out of sight but near enough to keep an eye on her.

_What am I still doing here? I never intended to stay...._

If he had bothered to even consider the prospect of leaving, he would have realised that abandoning a pregnant woman to deal with the imminent birth alone was, frankly, cowardice on his part. He didn't like being afraid.

Yet he was. Even he, not used to expecting mothers and bemused by the whole thing, could tell that Elizabeth was in a great deal of discomfort, she kept wincing when she moved.

The sun began to rise behind the trees, casting a sallow light on the clearing.

Beckett picked up the logs and started back towards the cabin.

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_What does he want? Can't he bloody cook?_

Elizabeth stirred the stew and smiled to herself. Of course not.

She had lost the will to fight him anymore. He had apologized, in a way, she still wasn't totally forgiving him.....she just....got used to him being there.

Another wave of pain washed over her, worse than any of the others.

_Nearly...nearly......._

_--------------------------------------------------------------------_

The two sat facing each other. The warm Caribbean air wafted through the open window, bringing an attractive floral scent into the cabin.

Beckett put his spoon down, placed his elbows on the table and looked at Elizabeth critically.

'What are you intending to call the child?'

Elizabeth returned his penetrating gaze. She answered his question without hesitation.

'Morgan.'

Beckett pulled a face. 'And if it's a girl?'

'Morgan. I thought a unisex name would be fitting. I like Morgan.'

Again, the eyebrow rose up Beckett's forehead. Elizabeth returned the scathing expression.

'Thank God I didn't choose Bartholomew.'

Despite himself, Beckett laughed and Elizabeth began to smile warmly. Beckett trailed off and began fumbling in his pocket. Elizabeth cocked her head.

'What are you doing?'

'What? You didn't think I was carving myself a pipe did you?'

'Honestly? Yes.'

'Well, I wasn't.' he answered. Beckett placed something wooden on the table. Her mouth fell open.

Beckett smirked. _Took me ages. Just hope the little brat enjoys it..._

It was a spinning top. A small child's toy expertly carved to form a delicate point at the bottom. It was perfectly proportioned and of a warm oak colour.

There was a silence as Elizabeth gaped at it. After a while she met Beckett's gaze.

'This...this is a toy....' she stuttered.

'Well spotted' he jeered at her from across the table. 'Yes, for...Morgan, as you call it. I suppose this is a gesture of goodwill on my part.'

Elizabeth deftly picked the top up and examined it. It really was an excellent piece of work. She felt her hatred for him waning...

_Are you nuts?! He's a lunatic!_

But for some reason, she couldn't reason with herself to be mad at him. Instead, she flashed a smile at him.

'Thank you Beckett, really, it's so nice.'

Beckett returned her smile. At last...he was getting through...

Elizabet smiled again and rose to pick up the plates.

Beckett knew instantly something was wrong. Gasping, she bent double, clutching her stomach. Fear made Beckett's insides freeze and he rushed over to her. A spluttering sound alerted him that Elizabeth's waters had broken.

'Beckett!' she cried, holding out her hands. He grasped them and held her upright. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, he suddenly felt useless.

'Beckett please, get the midwife!' she cried again.

'Er, right!' he said, wringing his hands 'Where is she'

'Tortuga'

'Right, hold on!'

Beckett fled from the hut, Elizabet gasped again as she felt the infant shift position within her.

'Beckett please' she whispered weakly 'Hurry'.....

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The water splashed around him as Beckett leapt out of the boat and raced to the Tortuga shore. Sweat ran down his forehead in tiny beads and he felt himself going red from the running.

_Where is the damn midwife?_

At last he found the place. A small establishment tucked away in a dark alley, it reeked of putrescence , Beckett noticed, as he half-fell through the door.

'Hello?!' he called as he straightened up. No-one answered.

'Hello?' He repeated, again, no reply.

'IS THERE A MIDWIFE HERE OR NOT?!!' Beckett roared at the top of his lungs; dust fell down fro the ceiling.

An ancient, ragged woman hobbled from behind a doorway Beckett had not seen before. She was a witchy little thing; he suddenly felt alarmed to let her near Elizabeth with her beady eyes, yellow teeth, sallow skin and long jagged nails that had a substance under them that looked uncomfortably like blood.

'What d'you want?' she hissed.

Beckett took off his hat. A gesture, he felt, made him seem like a concerned gentleman.

'Please Madam, I am in need of your services. Elizabeth, that is, Ms Turner...please she's having a baby!'

'Turner?' said the midwife, looking Beckett up and down, 'Already? Let me get my supplies...'

She turned and bustled in the dank storeroom. He stood, jingling from one foot to the other in his impatience.

'Please, there is a woman whose labour isn't getting any easier!' he cried.

The old woman returned, clutching her bag.

'Lead the way.' she cackled grimly.

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Beckett raced up the hill, technically dragging the elderly midwife behind him.

'Hold on Lizzie, I'm coming.' He whispered desperately.

When they reached the cabin, he allowed the midwife in first. As he tried to follow she barred his way.

'No men.' she growled.

Beckett hesitated; he could hear faint cries that could only be from Elizabeth.

_Do as she says....Elizabeth needs you...._

Did she really need him?

'There is a storm coming,' said the woman, 'We need a guard'

'Sure, sure, no problem' Beckett said as he distractedly sat back on the log pile. A short scream echoed throughout the cabin . Beckett stood up swiftly as the midwife reappeared.

'We need buckets.' she ordered.

'B-buckets?' he repeated stupidly, 'What do you need buckets for?'

'Just get the buckets you stupid man!' she shouted at him. Beckett sped towards the back of the house, returning with two buckets that he threw at her.

'What now?' he asked.

'Sit,' said the woman. 'And wait.'

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Beckett shivered as another strangled cry came from the cabin. He felt as though his heart was being wrenched from his chest every time he heard her cry out in pain.

Hours passed......

_What is that witch doing? _

The dark night sky shrouded the island. Beckett glanced up in alarm as a blood- curdling scream issued from Elizabeth. Then, silence descended.

Beckett stood up and swept of his hat as the midwife came out.

'Is she-' Beckett began, then he gasped as he saw her overalls covered in deep crimson liquid.

'WHAT IN GOD'S NAME HVE YOU DONE TO HER?' he cried, trying to shove past her. The buckets, he noticed as he felt hot vomit rise in his throat, were filled with blood and bloodied sheets.

'The child's dead' the hag said simply.

For some unknown reason, Beckett felt the bottom drop out of his world.

_Birth isn't a miracle. God is not forgiving, but a pillar of fire; taunting and vengeful._

**Next chapter contains the first real Beckabeth moment. See you next time.**


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